


Arms and the Man

by nonelvis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonelvis/pseuds/nonelvis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nefertiti and Riddell, afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arms and the Man

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend who requested Nefertiti/Riddell spanking fic, with Riddell as the recipient. I have no excuse for the story title.
> 
> Special thanks to platypus for the super-fast beta.

Riddell has few possessions. A camp bed, unmade, stained at the centre. A pair of ivory tusks, uncarved, more than enough for a fine set of combs or bracelets; necklaces of polished crocodile teeth; the pelt of a lion, head stuffed and propped open in an endless roar, laid carefully beside the bed so it's the first thing Riddell's feet touch at dawn.

All familiar to Nefertiti. All except the metal weapon she hefts in her hand, heavier than a sword, but much less deadly. 

Nefertiti leaves the tent, arms the stun gun to see what its power feels like. She's accustomed to power, but this is a very different sort.

Riddell doesn't notice her. He's wide-eyed, staring at the sparkling carpet of stars, rapt.

"No man alive has been as fortunate as I," he says. "To travel with the Doctor, to see the stars from above ... truly, there's no hunt that can compare." He turns to Nefertiti, all dimples and toothy smile. "Which is not to say I shan't try tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is not yet here," says Nefertiti. "Come to bed."

He takes the gun from her hand, flips its safety catch, and deactivates it, the gun tweeting a descending tone as it powers down.

"Never arm a weapon unless you intend to use it."

"I do," replies Nefertiti, and draws him inside the tent.

* * *

She has him flat on his back on the camp bed before he's halfway across the lion pelt.

"Steady on! Did anyone ever tell you you're quite forward for a girl?"

"I'm not a girl." She unclasps her necklace, slides her cloak and dress from her shoulders, and guides Riddell's hand to her breast. "I thought you'd noticed that."

He curls his palm over her and slowly flicks his thumb across her nipple. "I'm certainly noticing now."

"Good." She bends down, kisses him, relishes the hand holding her tight at the waist, pressing her closer; the tongue parting her lips, his satisfied grunt when she does the same to him. His teeth worry at her neck when she lifts her head for a moment, that hand at her waist now slipping lower, to her buttocks, and as she rocks against him with pleasure she feels him start to harden beneath her. A very adequate weapon, she thinks, provided he knows how to use it.

But first, there is unfinished business.

Nefertiti runs her fingers down the centre of Riddell's chest, unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt as she goes, rolling them to his sides like a parchment. He is pleasingly muscular, though pale, with fine silver hairs on his chest, so unlike her husband. Her fingertips skim across his ribcage; a laugh ripples through him, and he grabs her wrist to stop her. "That tickles, Nefi," he says.

She eyes that errant hand. "I am the Queen of Egypt," she says, "and I can tickle you if I like."

"You're still a woman, and I'm still a man. If I say it stops –"

"–then it stops when I'm ready." She drops on top of him, flicks her tongue over his lips until he opens his mouth and lets her kiss him properly. "I think you need to learn your place."

"This isn't it?"

"You threatened to put me over your knee and spank me. Do you really think I'd let insolence like that go unpunished?"

"I'd like to see you try." He reaches for Nefertiti, but she wriggles out of his grasp and off the bed.

She hooks the waist of her dress with her thumbs and shimmies out of it, eyes on Riddell the whole time. His mouth is slightly open, his gaze moving slowly across her body, taking her in.

Good.

"Get undressed," she says. "Then turn over."

"Very forward," he responds, but he complies with efficiency and settles back on a propped elbow, keeping his eyes on her. "I could get used to this."

She saunters towards him, twitching her hips slightly and enjoying the way he locks onto her every motion. Bends down, kisses him again, then carefully pushes his arm out of the way. "Face down," she says.

"If you insist." He furrows his brow and shakes his head, but does what she asks.

Riddell's back and legs are as tightly muscled as his front, and Nefertiti pauses to admire him before she kneels beside the bed and begins, tracing the sharp edges of his shoulderblades with her thumb, noting the scars and bite marks that tattoo his body. Perhaps she'll leave a bite mark of her own later.

Her hand drifts down Riddell's spine to his arse, and she lingers there, caressing and warming each curve with her palm.

She leans over to whisper in his ear. "I don't think you've ever set a woman across your knee to spank her. But I do think you'd like a woman to do that to you."

His head whips around to face her. "I _say_ , Nefi!"

She slaps his buttocks lightly, barely more than a tap, but enough that she hopes he realises her impact could have been much, much harder. "What were you saying?"

He blinks at her, stutters a syllable, then stops.

Nefertiti slaps him again, but no harder. Not yet.

Riddell inhales quickly. "I suppose," he says, "a true adventurer should be open to new experiences."

Nefertiti smiles, and this time, her open palm is firm and solid when it strikes him, and leaves reddening skin in its wake.

Again her hand comes down, harder still, and Riddell grunts. The centre of his body twitches, as if he's having to adjust himself.

Nefertiti dangles her hand over Riddell, nail-tips barely scraping the red marks she's left behind. Riddell squirms again, now with the distinct motion of a man shallowly thrusting into the bed. When he pauses, she raises her arm and drops her hand on him swiftly. Riddell's grunt ends in a whimper.

"Would you like me to stop?" Nefertiti asks, sweetly.

Riddell's face is now nearly as red as his arse, but he exhales sharply and shakes his head, smiling.

Nefertiti stiffens her fingers, her palm one flat wedge, and strikes him again, the impact vibrating along her forearm. Riddell cries out, thrusts against the bed once more, continuing to move and groan as Nefertiti takes the lion's tail, gently swishes the dark tufts at the end over Riddell's sore and sensitive buttocks.

She is not surprised by how many blows after that he's willing to endure. Her arm is more likely to give out before he will, even as she alternates pain with the pleasure of the lion tail, or light rubs of her palm, or cool air from her lips mingled with kisses. She takes these pauses for herself as well, slipping her other hand between her legs and imagining how this will feel with Riddell's strong and knotted fingers.

There is one last strike of her hand, fast and wicked, and finally Riddell croaks, "That's enough, Nefi." The fine film of sweat on his back speaks to how much of himself he's been holding back. When he tries, carefully, to sit up, Nefi reaches under him, supporting his weight until he's on his knees, and then twists herself onto the bed in front of him.

She tugs lightly on the velociraptor tooth at his throat, and he lowers himself onto her, into her, lips covering hers as he gingerly begins to move. He winces slightly with each motion, but sighs when Nefertiti runs her hands over his arse again, soft and soothing, gently encouraging him to press into her harder, faster.

The tension finally rises within her as well. Riddell's strokes are long and firm, as if he's trying to prolong things despite being desperate to come, and each time his body shifts, Nefertiti's pressure builds. She grabs onto him more tightly, yielding another wince, a low moan, and an increasingly ragged pace to his thrusts.

She squeezes his buttocks. Hard.

"Oh, _God_ , Nefi," he cries, and lets himself go, pushing quickly and deeply over and over until Nefertiti herself cries out, stars whirling in her head and through her body.

Riddell slows, and stops, and lays his head beside hers, panting shallow breaths across her neck. "You magnificent creature," he murmurs.

They lie tangled together, Nefertiti idly combing his hair through her fingers, while Riddell rests, occasionally dropping kisses on Nefertiti's shoulder and collarbone. A man easily satisfied by simple pleasures, she thinks, and pleasures she's so willing to offer.

"What are you thinking?" she finally asks.

His lips touch her neck, and she can feel him smiling. "I'm thinking that I still want to put you across my knee."

"Is that a promise?"

"Oh, yes," Riddell says. "But only if you promise the same."


End file.
